


Flames of the Hearth

by enkiduu



Series: Mementos of the Heart [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, M/M, Merlin Memory Month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 14:42:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10856121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enkiduu/pseuds/enkiduu
Summary: Arthur turns out to be a firebender, or so the burnt assassin on the ground says. Merlin is not amused.





	Flames of the Hearth

**Author's Note:**

> I was convinced by Tee and Katie and my need to write random things to do this, sooo, this exists now :D Happy Merlin Memory Month! 
> 
> Day 1:  
> Path I - Beginnings, Firsts, Risings  
> Path II - Elements  
> Path III - Emotion/Mood: Anticipation

The red flames devoured the assassins. Arthur pulled back in horror. Not because of what he'd done, but because of what he'd done in front of Merlin. 

Merlin, who worked at the small, cozy tea shop by the lake. Who dared to banter and call Arthur a prat. Who always smiled at Arthur brightly, so happy to see him every time he visited. Who lit up Arthur’s world. 

Merlin wasn't smiling now. 

“Merlin—” 

“You're a firebender,” Merlin accused quietly, but the wind carried his voice easily. He spoke it with such a fiery gaze that Arthur imagined he must’ve been one too, but then the hatred in his voice caught up. 

Disappointment and pain bogged up inside him. “Yes,” Arthur said. “But I—” God, he couldn't even honestly say he didn't use it for destruction, because that was all he’d used it for. “I'm sorry, Merlin.” 

Before Merlin, Arthur hadn't usually felt guilty about anything. But that was because he’d usually been the prince, and the prince couldn't afford to feel guilty, not while he belonged to the Kingdom and the Kingdom belonged to his father. 

He had never met anyone who didn't recognize Prince Arthur of the Fire Kingdom before. The respite had been welcome, and he’d always longed to see Merlin again. 

“You…” Merlin’s lithe frame was shaking slightly, not with fear but with hurt. “You didn't tell me. I patched you up the first time we met. I asked you how you got that scar over your chest. That burn scar.” 

“I… It didn't seem wise to say why,” Arthur said weakly. Why would be divulge that secret to somebody he'd just met, however beautiful and radiant they were? He let Merlin believe Arthur was some hero who’d fought a firebender and survived. 

(He didn’t. He didn’t survive.)

“Yeah, no kidding,” Merlin snapped. “I would've thrown you out.”

“No, you wouldn't have,” Arthur said softly, certain of that at least. “You're too kind.” 

Merlin scowled, but said nothing to deny it. He seemed sheepish. 

Arthur never understood why Merlin had a problem with being thanked or called kind, however obliquely (he was an idiot most of the time). He never could figure out why guilt lingered around Merlin like that. 

“Firebenders are conscripted—no. Most of you volunteer to be soldiers. For the glory, is it? Do you know what firebenders have done to the world?” He tilted his head. “What have _you_ done, Arthur?” he demanded, and the heat in his gaze asked, _why do I still want you?_

Arthur flinched. _Ashes_ , he thought. _Ashes and pyres, a pyrrhic victory and we can’t even admit it_. 

No point lying anymore. Merlin was going to loathe him either way. He didn't look pleased to be friends with a firebender, Arthur doubted he'd want more. “No. I didn't volunteer. Merlin, I'm… I’m the Prince. And listen,” he rushed the words out, “I'm going to make things better. I promise you. When I'm king…” 

Merlin barked out an incredulous laugh. He was standing close to him now, close enough for Arthur to see the tears in his eyes. “Oh,” he murmured, rigid hatred faltering. “When you're king. I've heard that once, before, you know.” He averted his gaze downwards, eyes flickering. “I’d even believed it.” 

Arthur, not for the first time, wondered about Merlin’s past. “Is it so hard to believe now?” 

Merlin’s expression cracked into something more vulnerable. “No… I believe it. Of course you’re the Once and Future King. I can't run away from Destiny, can I?” he mused. “Not when I finally decided to stop waiting for it.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I set up a bloody tea shop in the middle of nowhere and I end up with you,” Merlin said, explaining absolutely nothing at all. He shook his head and smiled, somewhat resigned. “Well, I suppose I was keeping a secret too.” 

Merlin raised a hand, his eyes flashing gold—it was as if nature rose together as one, undivided as it was in reality. Water swirled around them, flowing orbs in the air, deceivingly gentle. The soil shifted beneath them, forming a ring around them. A gale swept through the forest, rustling all the leaves. The world seemed to breathe, rejuvenated, awoken by Merlin, by a promise of atonement and remorse. There was a distinct lack of fire. 

All at once, everything was too quiet again. 

“No.” Arthur felt like he'd just been punched. “You're _Emrys_?!” 

Emrys, who was the so-called Savior or Destroyer, depending on who you asked (if the Prince asked, it was always the latter). Who Arthur had been ordered to kill on sight. Who… who was Merlin. 

He couldn't bear the thought of Merlin dying. Not at his hands, not at anybody else’s. Arthur was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to keep Merlin safe so he never had to feel such pain again. 

Funny, Arthur had been looking for Emrys for so long, anticipating their meeting, hoping for it. He didn't realise they'd already found each other. 

“Is it so hard to believe?” Merlin echoed, smiling wryly. “Keep your promise, Arthur,” he warned. “We’ll meet again.” He turned to leave.

“Wait,” Arthur blurted out, catching Merlin’s wrist. Merlin froze, inhaling sharply at the touch. “You could stay.”

Merlin’s face went inscrutable, but he didn't pull away, and his eyes still revealed too much. “No,” he said slowly, his pulse thundering beneath Arthur’s thumb. The earth seemed to rumble beneath them. Arthur thought, for a brief, dizzying moment, that he could feel the flames in the core of the earth, the beating of its heart. “I can't. You're the Prince.” 

“And you're Emrys. I'm not going to hurt you. We can change the world,” Arthur insisted, mind whirling. “Together. But I need your help.”

“I couldn't save the world when it burned. And it burned because of me,” Merlin said, a shadow falling over his expression. “Now you want me to change that? Don’t you think I’ve tried?”

Arthur dropped his hand. “I want _us_ to at least try.”

“You know what? I… I think you're just using me,” Merlin said, but he looked like he wanted Arthur to convince him otherwise. “You're worse than the others. You pretend to care, to have honour, but you're just like them, all you want is my power.” 

“That's not true,” Arthur said fiercely, meeting Merlin’s eyes. “I couldn't—wouldn't force you. Never.” 

Merlin blinked rapidly a few times, breathing heavily. “You have no idea. I need to leave.”

“Do you really want to, Merlin?” Arthur asked, fearing what he might lose. 

“What have you _done_ to me…?” Merlin smiled slightly, looking faintly amused, tears in his eyes. “You would never have to ask.” 

Arthur wanted to say, _ask for what_? But no matter how much he wanted to hear it, he didn't, because that felt too much like taking everything, like destruction. 

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said. 

A tear fell from Merlin’s cheek. Arthur reached forward slowly to wipe it away. Merlin reached up, staying his hand. “You’re a prat,” he whispered. “A firebending, clotpole of a prat.” 

Arthur smiled. _Idiot_ , he meant to say, but ended up saying instead, “I love you.” He panicked a little after saying it, because that was not—except... it was. That thought made him warm, but he didn’t think he minded it so much. He smiled hesitantly. 

Merlin laughed again, but this time, it was much gentler. “Of course I love you too,” he said, eyes shimmering. “I offered you the _world_.” His brows drew together. “And you just... apologised. I don’t understand,” he said.

A man who’d never received an apology from the world, receiving one from a man who’d never given one. Arthur swallowed, throat tight, eyes wet too. “Well. Don’t get used to it.” He hesitated. “The world deserves that, at least. You deserve that.”

Merlin licked his lips. “Yeah?” He smiled back and pulled Arthur into a kiss. 

His lips were hot on Arthur’s, soft and sweet yet sharp at once. He wanted to taste, to feel. The world felt too hot, on the brink of blazing down all the castles and walls, but Arthur didn't want to raze the world to the ground, he wanted to raise it up from the ashes, to build a new kingdom. He wanted more than anything to show Merlin they could do it, he wanted Merlin more than anything. 

“Yes,” Arthur moaned between kisses, feeling Merlin shiver against him. 

“Come on,” Merlin dragged Arthur towards his little tea shop. “Bed’s much more comfortable.” 

“I didn’t think your shop had enough space for a bed,” Arthur commented as Merlin pushed him past the empty tables. The door swooshed shut behind them and the teacups they knock off the counters never shatter, lifted by air. 

“Yeah, my lord?” Merlin purred, and _oh shit_. “You don’t think?” He smirked, pushing Arthur towards the bed, stronger than he looked, much gentler than he could’ve been. They stripped, and all the while, Merlin looked like he wanted to devour Arthur. “Where did you think I was when I thought about you?” Merlin asked, tossing Arthur a bottle of salve. 

“You thought about me?” Arthur asked breathlessly. 

“All the time,” Merlin said, pushing Arthur so his back fell onto the bed. “Fuck. You’re hot.” 

“Comes with the—firebending…” Arthur trailed off, hesitant. 

Merlin paused too, then shook his head, impossibly blue eyes drinking in Arthur’s body until they landed on the scar over his heart. “Can I?” he asked, fingers hovering. Arthur nodded. Merlin traced the scar. 

“I can’t feel it,” Arthur said, subdued as he remembered how he got it and who he got it from. 

“Maybe not physically, no,” Merlin said, sighing, and bowed his head, dipping down to kiss Arthur’s scar. He made his way upwards, tracing his neck and jaw and ear, and then kissed Arthur deeply. Arthur felt himself break a little. “I’m sorry too,” he murmured, admitted, and Arthur just nodded, because he knew sometimes, your apology had to be accepted before you could forgive yourself. He arched into the kiss, into Merlin’s fingers, which were stroking his cock achingly slow. 

Apparently, once Merlin started confessing, he couldn’t stop. “I didn’t hate you, but I was so mad,” he said, words ghosting Arthur’s ear. “I was so mad that I thought you were the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, when you were bending.” Arthur stared up at him, amazed. “I knew there was something about you the moment we met.” 

“I thought about you every night,” Arthur said, voice raw as he opened Merlin up, torn between watching Merlin’s expression and his own fingers, sliding in and out with obscene slickness. “I want to fuck you. Merlin, I need—”

“Then get on with it,” Merlin urged, eyes blown into dark disks, breath hitching with each stretch. “Please. I’m ready, I need you inside me yesterday, Arthur.” 

Arthur groaned and nodded. Merlin aligned himself over his cock and—oh, god—Merlin sat down on it, eyes hazy. “Fuck. You’re so good,” he gasped. He’d never felt so good before. It was like his nerves were on fire, his soul alit. He couldn’t help thrusting up once, moaning, which made Merlin let out a sob. Arthur immediately felt horrible and said, “Shit, sorry, I won’t move—”

“No,” Merlin said shakily, fingers digging into Arthur’s hips, pressing him down. His length was hard over Arthur’s stomach, dripping precome. “I just.” He shuddered again, eyes shut. When he opened them, they blazed with pleasure, and when he let out a sharp exhale, Arthur swore he saw fire, _felt_ it smolder the air. “I forgot. No, I… I never knew how _good_ fire could feel.” 

Arthur swallowed. “Oh.” He grinned. “Me neither.” 

Merlin nodded and rested his hands beside Arthur’s arms. He began to move, slowly at first, sliding up and down, ragged gasps escaping him. It must’ve stung, but he seemed to enjoy it very much. “Ah,” Merlin whimpered, strained, trembling. “You can move now.” 

Arthur moaned, he couldn’t fucking _think_. He shifted them carefully so Merlin was lying beneath him, legs hooked around Arthur, and then he thrust in with all the desire that’d been building up inside, a hungry flame that just wanted Merlin, Merlin, Merlin. His knuckles turned white around the sheets. 

“Fuck, please—” Merlin stuttered as Arthur started to fuck him in earnest, panting in his ear and curling his hand around his cock, stroking. “There, yes, _Arthur_ —” 

The blinding, white hot pleasure was too much. “I’m going to—” Arthur warned, trying to pull out, but Merlin stopped him, tugging him closer. 

“I'm Emrys,” Merlin reminded, and right, last waterbender in the world, most powerful being to ever live. Arthur supposed it helped when it came to sex. 

When he came, Arthur sighed in satisfaction, tension rolling off his being, washed away. It sent Merlin off the edge too, his eyes flashing gold, ethereal, messy heat splattering over Arthur’s hand. 

Arthur had never felt so light before, so safe. He slipped out of Merlin and smiled at Merlin. “Hi,” he said. 

Merlin blinked and sat up, supporting himself by his elbows. “Hi,” he said, pleased, and smiled back, happy. 

“It'll work out,” Arthur promised. “We’ll save the world.” _And each other._

Merlin answered with a kiss, no longer desperate, full of anticipation for the new world they would rise from the ashes. Arthur couldn't wait.


End file.
